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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27461992">linoleum.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/trxtr/pseuds/trxtr'>trxtr</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo (Lone Star) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>9-1-1 Lone Star Week 2020, Angst, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hostage Situations, Hurt TK Strand, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sad, Tarlos Week (9-1-1 Lone Star), Whump</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:47:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,788</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27461992</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/trxtr/pseuds/trxtr</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Get down, give me your money!"</p><p>There was a stone cold switch that went off in Tk's body, and he could only think one thing: <i>Protect Carlos. Keep him safe. Protect Carlos. Keep him safe.<i></i></i></p><p> </p><p>  <i><br/><i>So that's what he did.</i><br/></i></p><p> </p><p>  <i><br/><i>or: </i><br/></i></p><p> </p><p>  <i><br/><i>The Tarlos bank robbery au no one asked for, but everyone expected to happen at some point.</i></i><br/><b>TW: Gun violence, bank robbery, vulgar language.</b></p><p> </p><p>  <a href="https://trkstrnd.tumblr.com/post/633829520187785216/i-got-my-bthb-card-i-write-on-ao3-so-i-will">Bad things happen bingo board</a></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Carlos Reyes/TK Strand</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo (Lone Star) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2000908</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>140</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>linoleum.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lire_Casander/gifts">Lire_Casander</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For BTHB prompt: Human Shield.</p><p>This is for my best ao3 friend, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lire_Casander/gifts">Lire</a>, who is a genuine sweetheart. Thank u for existing. 🥰🥰🥰</p><p>and also!!! a huge thank you to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiniestmite/pseuds/tiniestmite">Jamie</a> for helping me navigate both Tumblr and ao3. I adore you both.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tk hated banks.</p><p>It wasn't because they were cold, or the fact that most of them had more money put into their subpar, rich-snob architecture than was actually stored in the facility. It wasn't even because he grew up in New York, where banks opened and closed faster than he could blink. It wasn't any of it.<br/>
</p><p>Tk just hated the fact that he could ask for a loan, and they would take minimal measures, at best, to make sure their money was being trusted with the right person. Teenaged Tk had spent half of his father's monthly income on oxytocin's alone, and the banks never caught him for it. They enabled him; enabled his stupid, reckless teenage behavior, and Tk wished they hadn't.</p><p><br/>
Which is why, standing here, inside of a big Wells Fargo Bank, looking out at the traffic build up on Ben White, Tk couldn't seem to swallow his anxiety down.</p><p>"Tk, baby?" Carlos muttered, snaking an arm around his fiancé. "Whats wrong, Amor?"</p><p>"I don't like banks."</p><p>Tk could feel Carlos snicker a little against his shoulder. They were standing in line, waiting to take out a loan to put a deposit down on a house. They were already living together, but Tk was growing increasingly worried about his father, and he figured the man was lonely. They found an opening for a house literally across the street from where Owen and Tk used to share a home. Tk was quick to mention it to Carlos, who thought it was a wonderful idea. It didn't hurt that Tk's fiancé was growing fond of his soon-to-be-father-in-law. The notion to move closer to Owen was obvious to them; that they should do it.</p><p>They had already agreed with the realtor, and the sellers. They just had to pay a cash down payment to actually move in. </p><p>Tk couldn't be more thankful.</p><p>He got to live with the two most important people in this life, and he would actually be taken care of, and appreciated, all while he did the same to others; his dad and his fiancé.</p><p>That was all he could ask for, really.</p><p>Tk pushed his nose into the crook of Carlos's neck, eyes closing so he could inhale the other's scent. He draped his arms around him, holding himself up with his grip on Carlos's torso. There was nothing else he really could do, at this point. Waiting was another major drawback to banks. Everyone was always busy, and Tk didn't know why. He didn't really remember why either.</p><p>He tilted his head up, and kissed Carlos's jaw. He felt the man twist to accommodate the other's weight, before turning down to press his lips to Tk's.<br/>
</p><p>Tk could feel eyes on them. He knew exactly the type of people that were staring, too. It was either widowed or divorced, senile old women, stuck in a mindset that was outdated as soon as Elton John came into fame, little kids, curious about love, or very stick-up-their-ass type gun x's and millennials that Tk most likely could not care less about. He was in love; absolutely head over heels with this man, and nothing was going to change that. Not now, not ever.</p><p>"What do you say," Carlos starts after a moment, "that once we are done here, we go get Torchy's and then we go back home? You know, before its not home anymore?"</p><p>Tk hummed in response, shoving his forehead deeper into Carlos's chest.</p><p>There would have been a time in which Tk would have shied away from public affection altogether. Alex would always tell him that affection was more often shown in material possessions— gifts, and though Tk was a very physical, touch starved individual, he wanted to appease his boyfriend at the time, so he refrained.</p><p>But now, though, with Carlos, he could make any sort of joke, or approach him with any sort of touch, and the other would follow suit. No matter where they were, or who they were around, Tk and Carlos always found time for each other, and learned that they both needed physical touch to survive.</p><p>So this state, safe in Carlos's buff arms, enthralled at how he could feel so much each time he feels the same thing, was a state of homeostasis for Tk. He could die right there, and he would be in heaven before he even took his last breaths. It was peaceful; easy, even, to let his guard down around the only person he really trusted, besides his father.</p><p>And it was twice as easy to put it right back up at the slightest sign of unrest.</p><p>"Get down, give me your money!"</p><p>There was a stone cold switch that went off in Tk's body, and he could only think one thing: <i>Protect Carlos. Keep him safe. Protect Carlos. Keep him safe.<br/>
</i></p><p>
Tk could feel Carlos's arms stiffen around him, their breaths hitching in unison as both dove for the small couch in the lobby area of the bank. Tk couldn't think. He couldn't breathe. He could barely keep his eyes open and register the situation that they were in. All he knew was that he and Carlos were on the floor, there was a gunman in the bank, and shots were being threatened.</p><p>
  <i>What a wonderful time it would be for first responder mode to kick in, right?</i>
</p><p>But it didn't.</p><p>He was still only registering the fact that he could feel Carlos in his arms, trembling and sweaty, and he knew he felt no different to the other man, who was laid next to him, with his head pressed close against his chest. Tk let out a whimper, which was nearly lost amongst the cries of the other people. It was a medley of whimpers and whines, cluttering the inside of the bank, slowly mixing with the angry stomps of the men entering the building.</p><p>He'd worked on robberies before. Her had, really, but right now Tk was at a loss. He normally stood outside while police took care of any potential threat, though Tk always had found it difficult when he knew there had been shots fired. That meant there were people who were hurt; injured, and the wait was agonizing for him. He had no idea how he did it, nor how whoever would inevitably come to their aid would manage, either. </p><p>He was shaking, gripping tightly onto Carlos's shirt as the man pulled out his phone. The perks of being a first responder only really presented themselves in situations like this, where Carlos could send a text to his chief, and maybe even Owen. He just hoped they were able to be on their phones at the time, otherwise their only backup plan was the panic button under the teller's desk, and from what the two men could make out, about four people had pushed it frantically by now.</p><p>So, help was coming, yeah, it was, but Tk couldn't really think about anything other than the fact that it wasn't there yet.</p><p>
  <i>Just hold onto him. Don't let him go. Hold onto him. Don't let him go. Hold on— wait, wait Carlos!</i>
</p><p>Tk felt his breath get stolen from his lungs when he felt Carlos get yanked from his grip. He didn't want to look, he didn't want to open his eyes, but as soon as Tk heard the unmistakeable crack of his fiancé's phone screen, and the horrified sob from the other, he knew that he would have to face the truth eventually.</p><p>"Carlos?" He managed to blink up, eyes flicking between the gun pressed against his back, the shattered phone on the floor, and the narrowed eyes of the hooded figure holding him up. Part of him wanted to panic; to scream and cry and beg the man not to shoot the only thing that was really keeping him going at this point, but Tk knew that it wasn't going to get him anywhere. It would probably put a hole through Carlos's back sooner.</p><p>So Tk sat up, making eye contact with his lover. He placed his hand in front of him, palms facing the assailant. He let his eyes travel to the hooded figure, and he shook his head, his body tense. All he could think about was Carlos, how his face was twisted in pain, how his biceps were tensed in an effort to keep his arm from snapping back. He was struggling, and Tk couldn't handle it.</p><p>"Why don't you put the gun down and we can just talk?" Tk tried. He hoped that his experience as the 126's designated mediator would come in handy here, but his experience was more talking people down the ledge if hurting themselves, never other people, especially not his fiancé.</p><p>So he wasn't surprised when he dug the gun further into Carlos's backs nd he saw Carlos tilt his head up in absolute excruciation.</p><p>"Why? So you can talk me out of robbing a bank? So you can keep me from shooting this godforsaken bastard of a <i>cop?"</i></p><p>Tk felt his blood run cold, his face flushing as he looked at Carlos's pained face. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to believe, other than the fact that the love of his life was in a situation that Tk had next to no experience for, and that they were both absolutely fucking horrified.</p><p>
  <i>He's not just a cop. He's my fiancé.</i>
</p><p>Tk bit back the words and shook his head. He didn't want to provoke the other man, even though he could see his friends busting into the vault near the back of the bank. Some were making good headway with the registers, and if Tk was in any other situation he would have stood up and punched them all square in the jaw, but right now? He couldn't risk Carlos like that.</p><p>"Please, just let him go," Tk whispered again. He was staring up at Carlos. "He doesn't deserve it, just let him go."</p><p>But the figure shook his head and turned around, attempting to get the attention of the tellers and assistants behind the desks, and Tk nearly puked. "Listen up, you do as we say and no one gets hurt." He started. He pulled Carlos's wrists back, hard, and dug the barrel of the gun between his shoulder blades. Tk felt his breath catch in his throat when he heard Carlos's cry. It was louder, this time, very obviously in pain, and Tk could do nothing to stop it. "We are gonna be in and out. All we want is the money, and you're going to help us get it. Give us the vault combination, let us do what we need to do, and we will be out of your hair, but if you don't, or if you try to pull anything funny..."</p><p>Tk heard the safety of the gun click off.</p><p>Employees started cry speaking, trying their very best to appease the requests of the man. Tk could barely make out the silhouettes of the several people around them. Civilians, some children, crying, asking for their parents, some full adults, trying to remain as silent as they could, as to not provoke the group of robbers. </p><p>And Tk was trying. He was trying his damn hardest to keep a bullet from going through his lover's back, but the moment he heard sirens in the distance, no matter how far they were, or who they were for, Tk knew that it would have set them off.</p><p>And it did.</p><p>The first shot rang out from across the bank, and the terrified screams of one of the employees could be heard.<br/>
"The police. Who called the fuckin' cops?" The man had lowered the gun in order to gain leverage against the strong arms of his hostage.<br/>
But Tk took it as an opportunity.</p><p>Before he could think, he was throwing himself up behind the man, wrapping his limbs around Carlos's neck and pushing him to the floor. He sprawled out on top of him, covering his body with his own, as four more shots rang out.</p><p>The pain started slow. It was a dull ache between his shoulder blades, that was added to, with every breath.</p><p>
  <i>One, two, three, four.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Breathe, Tk, C'mon, it's not that hard.</i>
</p><p>Except it was. It was really, really hard. He could feel blood beginning to soak the back of his shirt, and even the bottom half of his jeans. He could feel another gun, still pressed to his neck, and he could hear Carlos crying; full blown hysterical, beneath him.</p><p>Tk wasn't sure what was going on, anymore. He knew that he had been shot. He knew that Carlos was crying and he knew that he had done something right, even if it hurt, but the cold linoleum floor felt even colder against his knuckles, and the vibrations of Carlos's sobs weren't as comforting as they were when they were in bed, reminding each other of the fact that nightmares weren't real.</p><p>But this one was, and it didn't feel like a nightmare. </p><p>Logically, Tk knew he had probably been fatally wounded, but he was protecting Carlos, and the four dull, wide pinpricks against his back and leg just reminded him that that could have been his fiancé's back, and not his.</p><p>He was just glad it wasn't Carlos's.</p><p>—</p><p>The barrel was the only thing Carlos could focus on. The metal was cold pressed against his back. If he tried to move, though, he knew the heat that would follow would be excruciating, so he stayed still, hoping that his message had sent by the time that the men had smashed his phone.</p><p>His phone, damn it.</p><p>He hoped the SD card was at least salvageable, since he hadn't backed up a lot of his photos. Most if them were of he and Tk, and he didn't want to give those up. Not after three and a half years together. He hoped Tk had the same ones on his phone, at least, though he wasn't sure, because the other man always had a camera roll full of Carlos and the team and random celebrities and memes because Tk Strand was truly a pissy little fourteen year old—</p><p>Carlos, gun. Remember?</p><p>Carlos felt the gun push up against his spine, the barrel catching on each vertebra, and he couldn't suppress the inevitable whine that escaped his lips. The words from the assailant were angry, but muffled. He'd heard the same spiel at least a thousand times. It was something he came across a lot in law enforcement. The whole Do as I say and no one gets hurt, type bullshit. Every robbery it was the same, and Carlos was hoping society as a whole would listen and learn by now</p><p>Obviously they hadn't.</p><p>But it didn't matter, because as long as he was the one with the gun to his back, Tk wasn't, and that was the only fact that held any significance to him.<br/>
As long as he was here, and Tk was there, they could wait this out, and they would be okay.</p><p>So, Carlos cooperated as much as one could with their arms tied behind there back. Even if they weren't tied, Carlos was almost positive that bringing them back to their natural stasis would prove difficult. He wasn't a gymnast. He didn't practice dislocating limbs on the daily, and even if he did, this would still be almost too much to take, so he sat back, and he listened, hearing the employees rattling off numbers, watching the money as it dwindled from the bank and was placed into cliche black duffles.</p><p>This had to be a joke, right?</p><p>Reality was starting to catch up with Carlos, now, in a way that managed to frustrate him more than he initially thought possible. These guys just walked in, guns a-blazin', and expected these people to respect them enough to just give away their money? And it was working?</p><p>Carlos almost cracked a smile at the pure audacity of these robbers, but his through process was cut short by the gun being shoved further into his back, and the loud exclamation of: "The police. Who called the fuckin' cops?"</p><p>And then Everything moved in slow motion.</p><p>A gunshot, loud, across the bank, nowhere near him (which, he was immensely grateful for). A cry; a scream, from the same direction. Carlos felt his instincts kick in, but he couldn't move. He wanted to help. He wanted to escape, and save whoever it was who had been so brutally attacked, but his feet remained planted.</p><p>Until there was a force, shoving him forward and knocking him to the ground.</p><p>
  <i>Bang.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>One.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <span class="u">Bang.</span>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <span class="u">Two.</span>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <span class="u">
      <b>Bang!</b>
    </span>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <span class="u">
      <b>Three.</b>
    </span>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <span class="u">
      <b>BANG!</b>
    </span>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Oh, for the love of all things holy, make it stop, make it stop, make it stop—</i>
</p><p>"Carlos."</p><p>"Tk?"</p><p>Carlos felt his body stiffen, turning to ice at the sound of his lover's voice. It sank into him slowly, like a hot iron ball, melting through the layers until it was stuck at the bottom of Carlos's body, starting to melt his insides and everything around him. It was so obvious, now. He was stuck, on his stomach, with a weight that, until now, he was positive was his captor.</p><p>But the more he took it in; the familiarity of the body on top of him, the hand laying dangerously close to his, Carlos made the realization that it, in fact wasn't the gunman, but the one thing on this planet that Carlos could not live without.</p><p>"Tk? Tk, baby, talk to me, my love."</p><p>"Carlos?"</p><p>Carlos was in a predicament. He was laid on his stomach, and he could feel Tk bleeding on top of him. He could feel the blood seeping into his shirt, the life slowly draining and drifting from Tk's body, onto the linoleum. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't roll over and Jostle his lover, but he couldn't stay still and let him bleed. He was stuck weighing options that never should have presented themselves in the first place. </p><p>He thought he was used to it, choosing the unfair, but that was everyone else's unfair, not his own. His own misfortunes were a different breed to Carlos. They were bigger, always watching, laying back on their angry haunches, waiting for the right moment to strike down his entire life, and leave Carlos to pick up the pieces.</p><p>And he thought he was okay with that; with a missed promotion, to the death of a pet. Carlos thought he could bounce back from anything.</p><p>Anything but this.</p><p>Carlos let his palms dress against the tile, and he managed to scoot away from Tk, the slightest bit. He stopped once he heard the faintest of whimpers, though.</p><p>"Stay under me."</p><p>"You're bleeding."</p><p>"Stay under me and you won't be."</p><p>
  <i>Of course. Of fucking course.</i>
</p><p>"You didn't have to do that, Tk," Carlos sniffed He managed to wriggle and writhe around to grab onto Tk's hand, but when he did, it was cool and clammy, and Carlos felt sick just having there skin touch. "You didn't have to push me."</p><p>"Mmyeah," Tk wheezed. "I did. They'w're gonna hurt you."</p><p>"Did you ever think about how you getting hurt was going to hurt me, too, Tk?"</p><p>"Not physically."</p><p>"Not yet."</p><p>"'Los," Tk warned. Almost all of his exhaustion was shoved aside for that brief moment, as if all of his willpower was shoved into one desperate warning. "Don't go there."</p><p>"I don't know where else to go, Tk."</p><p>"Anywhere but there."</p><p>Carlos didn't know he was crying until now. Now, that he was under Tk, but only slightly. He managed to flip himself over and stabilize the other man, but he wasn't quite sure what to do, now. He hadn't noticed the police inside the bank, or the flashing lights outside the windows. All he knew was that Tk was bleeding, no longer in top of him, but in front of him, now, and he didn't know where the fuck to start.</p><p>The police academy hardly lent itself to emergency medicine. Carlos was trained more in the field of deescalation (which, Carlos was now learning he sucked at). He had managed to pick up a fe things from the calls that he had been on, and the couple of lessons Tk had managed to give him on emergency medicine, but it was all flying away from him, now. All he knew was to keep him awake. Keep him talking.</p><p>"How about we go home, then, hm? Get some of that coconut milk chocolate ice cream you like, and crash on the couch?"</p><p>"I know what you're doing."</p><p>"Is it working?" The hope was evident in Carlos's voice, and he was starting to believe in a better outcome the more he sat there, because though Tk was laying down, and bleeding heavily, if Carlos could keep him talking long enough for those EMTs outside to get a hold of him, then maybe they might have a chance.</p><p>"Depends."</p><p>They could hear the commotion of the robbers resisting arrest, yelling and screaming as guns and duffles clattered to the floor and handcuffs clicked around thick wrists. Maybe, just maybe they would get out of this.</p><p>They had to get out of this.</p><p>"On what?"</p><p>"How good y'are at making' conversation," Tk replied, breathing beginning to slow.</p><p>Carlos once again took his hand and lifted it from the linoleum floor, but this time he cherished the touch. He reveled in it, because this was Tk's hand, and though it was cold and clammy, it was still <i>alive.</i> He was still <i>alive</i>.</p><p>"Well," Carlos started, hoping he could find something to say. "I, uh, I'm Carlos Reyes, I'm 29, I like big dogs, and I am absolutely head over heels for this one guy. Maybe you know him?"</p><p>"I may," Tk replied, half asleep. "But I think mine's better."</p><p>"Oh yeah?" Carlos whispered, leaning down to kiss Tk's ear. "Tell me about him."</p><p>The doors were opening, now, EMS was starting to take over, flooding the scene, but Carlos didn't move. He just kept Tk's hand in his.</p><p>"Funny you should ask," Tk wheezed. "He's smart, and he's kind and he's funny, and he looks an awful lot like you."</p><p>"Does he, now?"</p><p>"Afraid so."</p><p>Carlos cracked a sad smile, and watched Tk's eyes drift shut as emergency services took over. He knew whatever happened was out of his control, but he also knew, in that moment, that it didn't really matter. That Tk loved him, and he would always find a way to come back home. He had to.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://trkstrnd.tumblr.com/post/633829520187785216/i-got-my-bthb-card-i-write-on-ao3-so-i-will">Bad things happen bingo board</a>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Kudos and Comments are always appreciated!! I love you all!</p><p> </p><p>  <a href="https://trkstrnd.tumblr.com">Tumblr</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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